


Hulkeye

by Tharhi



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Gen, Hulkeye - Freeform, team fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-30
Updated: 2012-03-30
Packaged: 2017-11-02 18:03:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/371818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tharhi/pseuds/Tharhi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is not that Bruce Banner is unfriendly. In fact, he always has something to say whenever anyone talks to him, but it tends to distract or end conversation, allowing him to slip out without notice or hard feelings. By the time everyone has begun to settle in, the established norm leaves Bruce a loner within the team – exactly where he wants to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hulkeye

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jidders](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jidders/gifts).



> Challenge: Fandom Avengers, Theme Hulkeye. Also, I am aware my title is lacking. This is a common problem.

“Hey Banner! Die Hard in the living room,” Clint says as they pass in the hallway. Bruce grunts noncommittally and Clint shrugs, turning and walking backwards to shout, “We’re in the big room, with the nice TV by the kitchen if you want to join us.”

It’s not unusual when they don’t see Bruce.

 

After the movie, Clint and Natasha drift into the kitchen. Natasha grabs a packet of Thor’s poptarts while Clint heads for the fridge.

“I’m concerned is all,” Clint defends, returning the carton of milk to the fridge. “Hell, even Stark and Cap are starting to buddy up and he’s still on the outside.”

Natasha glances at the toaster, humming acknowledgement as she waits. When her bored gaze returns to Clint he’s holding his glass of milk and looking worried. 

Clint rotates the cup, watching the ripples, “He trusts us fine enough on the battlefield but we’re back here and it’s like we don’t exist again.”

“Don’t exist?” She drawls out, “Clint, calm down. He has to work hard to keep control and he’s probably just ensuring he’s missing all the nonsensical posturing you males insist on.”

“Hey! I don’t-“ Clint trailed off with an annoyed sigh as the toaster popped and he lost Natasha’s interest.

 

Tony grumbled and complained and whined under his breath as he straightened his back, leaning away from the exposed internal workings of some machine. Clint watched from the doorway, amused at the relative quiet. 

When Tony stepped away from his tools, Clint spoke up, “Steve said you needed my help?” 

“No, I needed Banner but he’s too busy with his own projects,” Tony griped. “Like anything he’s doing could hope to be half as important as my work...“

“So I’ll just be going then,” Clint said, crossing his arms. “You might have better luck if you stopped ordering him about like your robots.”

 

Clint pulled on Thor’s arm, thankful that the man was willing to be pulled.

“I do not understand,” Thor said, frowning. “I simply offered to train with him, but this is the seventh time I have been refused. Does he not believe I could help his style?”

“Thor-buddy, Banner doesn’t have a style, he has Hulk. He lets go of his control and bam, green monster and destruction runs free.” Clint chuckled, more as a cue of humor for Thor than due to finding it funny.

 

Hawkeye stood above the battle, arrow primed but relaxed. Captain America, Black Widow, and Thor had been called out west and Ironman had some business meetings in LA. It didn’t matter much, Hulk had the wanna-be giant armors easily in hand, especially considering they looked more like deflated balloons.

Hawkeye was supposed to be on the lookout for this week’s mastermind, but figured the villain had hightailed it out of there when Hulk showed up. The armors were showing a distinct lack of purpose compared to when they had first arrived on scene.

Making a decision, Hawkeye started his descent to ground level. 

He arrived as Banner began to assert control, Hulk’s arms pulled into his chest and he curled over as if in pain. No color change as of yet, but it usually took awhile. This was typically the time the Avengers gathered together awkwardly on the side, comparing the devastation against previous battle’s destruction, making fun of their past blunders. Most memorably was the time that Thor had gotten lost during battle (to be fair, they were fighting inside a mall). Everyone was very careful not to look at Hulk.

Hawkeye ignored the established protocol and stood next to Hulk, who had yet to notice him. “Nice! The balloon armors didn’t stand a chance,” Hawkeye was loose and easy, facing the street but including Hulk.

A minute later, a surprised Bruce was giving Hawkeye a squinty-eyed stare and clutching desperately at his pants.

 

The followings days were filled with new attempts by the balloon armor mastermind. The battles never lasted long, but Hulk ensured there was plenty of damage. In the aftermath of one of their more intense battles, Bruce watched as Hawkeye struggled down from his perch atop a nearby building. 

His brown eyes glowed green as he shouted, “Jump!” The command was followed with a smirk, “I’ll catch you.”

Without question, Hawkeye turned his slip into a controlled fall. There was just enough distance that he didn’t want to test his ankles with all the debris strewn about. They both grunted as Bruce bent his knees to absorb the impact. He straightened, holding Hawkeye bridal-style. “My princess,” Bruce grinned.

Hawkeye batted his eyelashes and laughed, “A kiss from my savior?”

Bruce’s eyes faded back to brown and he dropped Hawkeye in answer.

 

“Jump Cupid. I catch.” Hulk called out, voice booming.

Hawkeye peaked over the edge, debating. It’s not that he didn’t trust Hulk to catch him, Hulk had been catching him for a week now, but that the other Avengers had returned. He didn’t need Ironman swooping in to save him from a “slip”. 

Instead he saw Ironman and Captain America watching curiously, startled out of their awkward post battle commentary. With a smirk, Hawkeye did a running jump, aiming for Hulk.

“Hi guys,” he said, cradled safely in Hulk’s arms. 

 

Steve wasted no time in approaching him after battle. His hair was freshly washed and he wore clean civilian clothes. Clint was in a towel trying to figure out how awkward it would be to change while getting a lecture for inappropriate post-battle behavior.

“Was it because there were only two of you?” Steve opened up with, face concerned. “I had been worried, maybe that we overwhelmed Doctor Banner or he didn’t like us. What did you do?”

“Huh, not sure really. Maybe?” Clint tugged on his shirt, “Bruce makes a mean peanut butter and jelly though.”

“What did you say? Should I do anything special to approach him, he kept brushing me off earlier and I wanted to respect his wishes but,” Steve trailed off, unwilling to remark on Bruce’s anger. “I didn’t want him uncomfortable.”

“He’s got pretty good control,” Clint said, crossing to his dresser. “He just didn’t know he was a team player.”

 

The audible ticking of the clock announced the late hour, the mansion was never quiet enough to hear it during the day.

Clint walked in to see Bruce stand up, star cookie cutters in hand. He placed them next to three sandwiches that had been lined up on the counter, “Would you mind a missing point? I could probably get three stars, or most of three stars out of each sandwich.”

Clint shrugged, “I can eat the crust too you know.”

Bruce nodded, “Three stars then.” He went about pressing in the star shapes, laying out five on a plate he slid over to Clint. On the plate he kept for himself he hoarded the leftover crust, munching on one bit as he washed out the cookie cutters.

“You’re probably going to get bothered by all the Avengers now,” Clint mentioned, enjoying his peanut butter and jelly stars. He pulled Bruce’s plate over and made a pen out of the crust, corralling Bruce’s four stars. “Steve was really excited to see our interaction after the battle.”

The cookie cutter went beside the sink to air dry and Bruce returned to the counter, tugging back his plate. When he looked up, amusement was lurking. “I don’t mind. I figure by now, if Shield was going to move me on they would have.”

Clint let go of his own worries, “As if I’d let you leave. You’re stuck with me.”

 

“Perhaps it’s time to break up the Avengers,” Fury’s tinny voice came through the cell phone, “I’m concerned what will happen if they truly become a team.”

Phil usually tried to sound respectful of Fury, but there were limits, “Sir, you don’t really believe we’re still in control here, do you? Doctor Banner was our last hope and Barton managed that while you had me busy in Montana.” Reports of villains were greatly exaggerated in that case. It made for a fun two weeks herding half the Avengers though.

The sigh was audible over the phone and Phil waited out the silence. “Do you believe they’ll still fight for us?” 

Phil eyed the team of superheroes chasing a ball around a field with no goals. He had done his best to smooth relations over despite Fury’s urgings - they had done the rest themselves. “If not for us sir, than for the good side at least.”

Fury’s tone was all business when he responded, “Right then, your title is changed to Avenger Relations Officer but as far as they’re concerned you’re still their handler, got it? Do anything you can to make them listen.”

“Of course sir.” He lowered the phone as Fury hung up. He wasn’t worried. For a group of superheroes, they had a strange fear of paperwork and surprisingly good work ethic. No reason to tell them it was unnecessary. 

After all, it made his own reports much easier to fill out. Usually he just copied and pasted from Steve’s, with occasional notes added from the others to round it out. The man had the most straight forward and concise reports Phil had ever read. 

“Thor! Chase the ball, the ball! Arg!” Tony threw up his arms as Thor wandered off to examine what appeared to be butterflies. “Coulson, you’re up – you better be as good at soccer as you are at paperwork!”

“Maybe if you guys would play by the rules Thor wouldn’t get so confused,” he shouted back, strolling onto the field.

Clint looked up with a grin, “I have a rule! Piggy back soccer, last person on each team to touch the ball has to be carried piggy back.” He turned and tackled Bruce, climbing the man like a jungle gym while Steve looked between Tony and Phil.


End file.
